A City Out of Clay
by ValandMarcelle
Summary: It's another day, another nickel for the newsboys of Manhattan, but Crutchie can clearly see that his best friend Jack Kelly dreams of something-or somewhere-better than New York. (Santa Fe/Prologue from Crutchie's POV) Written by Marcelle, PLEASE Read and Review!
1. Wake-Up Call

Crutchie was never much of a morning person. He preferred to spend the hours before the sun rose in his own little pocket of the world-or just outside the world, for that matter. A little pocket where both of his legs could take him wherever he wanted to go.

He didn't need a crutch or anything as demeaning as that in his little pocket, just the solid reliability of his own two feet that he longed for every day. So why would he ever want to wake up earlier, to face the reality that he only had half of the reliability he wanted even sooner?

No, mornings were too rough, because for a small lingering moment, he could almost imagine that there was feeling in his gimp leg. A tingling of life, almost undetectable but most definitely there. Mornings were a slap in the face, so he liked to avoid them until Jack shook him awake and back into the too-real world of the newsies.

But this morning was different, and Crutchie could tell. There was something stirring in the air, something that told him he would want to catch all of the daylight he could while it was still there. And so he rose before even the sun, sitting still for a moment, bracing himself for the energy it would take to lift himself up onto his one good leg. Maybe it was better to be up early today, anyway.

His gimp had been causing him more trouble than usual lately, and he never liked to admit when it started acting up. It usually resulted in the other newsies occasionally taking pity on him, switching shifts with him to give him a break or slipping him an extra penny if they could. As much as he appreciated their concern, he didn't want to be the charity case among a group who could all be considered charity cases themselves. It was sometimes almost like they expected him to drop dead any day. And if he was really honest, Crutchie was afraid of that himself.

Most days he was fine, and barely had any trouble at all. But days like these were hard on him, and he couldn't help but scare himself silly with his own thoughts. What if whatever had caused leg to go dead decided to take the rest of him, too?

He'd heard the murmurs in the hospital when he was younger, right after his ma had passed away. Polio, they'd said. Polio had taken his leg. Crutchie didn't have the first clue what polio was, but he knew from personal experience that it didn't do anything good for a person. The most he could decipher from the doctor's intellectual babble was that polio was a sickness, a disease. So why couldn't it come back and finish him off? What if it had never left him in the first place?

The way Crutchie saw it, his leg served dual purposes: reminding him that he was strong, that he could pull through anything if he had a little help, from friends or otherwise, but it also reminded him that he wasn't as invincible as he would have liked to have people believe. Jack was the invincible one, not him.

For as long as he had been at the lodging house, Crutchie had never once seen Jack Kelly falter, waver, or hesitate in any way. He was always so sure of himself, always knew exactly what to do in any situation. Jack was the elder brother figure that the majority of the newsies never had and would never admit they needed. But regardless of whether or not they said it out loud, Jack always seemed to know exactly what they needed-he had that kind of intuition.

So Crutchie was not surprised in the least to hear Jack stirring across from him as he slowly rose with the help of his crutch and began to dress, slipping on his vest and tugging his hat onto his head. Of course Jack would have heard him, it was that intuition again.

"Hey!" Jack called softly, propping himself up on his elbow. "Hey, where are you goin'? The bell ain't rung yet, go back to sleep!"

"I wanna beat the other fellas ta the streets," Crutchie explained, adopting a sheepish look on his features. "I don't want anyone ta see I, uh, ain't been walkin' so good." He hobbled over to the ladder, and Jack rose to his feet. "Aw, quit gripin'," he reprimanded the younger boy, who rolled his eyes in return. "Ya know how many guys fake a limp? That bum leg of yours is a gold mine!"

There it was again- The Moneymaker Excuse. Crutchie heard it all day, every day about how lucky he was to have a real disability, as opposed to all the fakers out there who pretended to have gone through the same agony of losing a limb that Crutchie had actually experienced, all to sell a few extra "pity papes". His fellow newsies employed The Moneymaker Excuse on a daily basis, so Crutchie couldn't have a chance to feel lesser than the others even if he wanted to.

It outlined that he was just as valuable as they were, maybe more, all because of the limp. The limp didn't set him back, it put him ahead of the rest. And Crutchie understood that, he really did. It was rare for the other newsies to do him any extra favors, only if they knew he was really struggling. But just for once, he would have liked to complain and not be bombarded with The Moneymaker Excuse.

He couldn't tell the others about that, of course, especially not Jack. After all they had done for him, he supposed that in all honesty, he didn't really have the right to complain.

"Well, if someone gets the idea I can't make it on my own, they'll lock me up in the Refuge for good!" Crutchie argued instead, plopping down at the foot of the ladder. He knew he had a one-up there, because the Refuge was a real threat to him, to all of them. It must have been to Jack, too, because he seemed to have no retort ready, and simply continued to dress himself as Crutchie prepared to climb down the ladder.

The ladder proved to be a daily challenge for him, especially with the dead weight of his bad leg trying to drag him down. And of course, since today was a bad day for him and the gimp, it was looking like it was going to be even more difficult than usual.

Crutchie tried to feel for a rung on the ladder, but his foot only just grazed the top of the next metal bar. Sighing internally, he resigned himself to the fact that today, he was going to need more assistance than usual.

"Be a pal, Jack, help me down!" A last futile attempt at reaching the ladder rung resulted in his foot slipping, sending Crutchie almost dropping down to the hard ground below. He gripped the top of the ladder, sheer panic acting as a reflex as he dangled precariously, hearing Jack cry out in surprise above him. He felt a hand grip his wrist so hard it almost hurt, and began to feel himself being hauled back to the roof.

"No, c'mon Jack, I wanna go down!" Crutchie protested, trying out his best pair of innocent doe eyes on his older friend. Jack showed no sympathy, however, making sure the younger boy sat safely on the roof again before harshly dropping his arm.

"You'll be down there soon enough!" he scolded, whacking Crutchie on the head and walking over to the railing. "Take a moment, drink in my penthouse. High above the stinkin' streets of New York."

"You're crazy," Crutchie scoffed, but joined his friend at the railing nonetheless. Leave it to Jack to turn the rusty, dirty roof of the lodging house into a penthouse...

"What, 'cause I like a breath of fresh air? 'Cause I like seein' the sky and the stars?" Jack retorted, leaning on the railing and gazing out over the city with a look of almost contempt and disgust on his face. What did he have against New York all of a sudden? Where had this nonsense about nature come from?

"You're seein' stars, alright..." Crutchie mumbled, rolling his eyes at his friend's fantasies. Jack had always been a particularly passionate individual, making sure everyone knew exactly what his opinions were on any given subject. He had seemed a little funny recently, grumbling about street conditions-how smoggy, how crowded, how dirty everything was. Crutchie had known all of this before, it was impossible not to as a newsie. But hadn't Jack told him not five minutes ago to stop griping about his leg? So why was he being such a hypocrite now, whining about about things he couldn't fix if he tried?

By now, Crutchie had accepted that he was in New York to stay, and he was happy with that. It wasn't as if he could get very far in his condition, anyway. And New York was where all of his friends were, it was where Jack was. So he was fine with Manhattan and the newsies-in fact, he couldn't imagine anything better. Why couldn't Jack see that?

"Them streets down there, they sucked the life otta my old man. Years of rotten jobs, stomped on by bosses, and when they finally broke 'im, they tossed 'im to the curb like yesterday's paper. Well they ain't doing that to me!" Jack ranted, directing his last shout at the streets below.

Crutchie stood for a moment, a bit taken aback by his surrogate brother's sudden anger. Jack remembered his father that well? Or had he just been told about him? Either way, he had never mentioned his real family before, and Crutchie had never felt that it was right to ask. After all, he only remembered his mother, and that was only from a few hospital visits clouded by the thick fog of sickness.

Mentions of any real family members usually drug up bad memories for most of the newsies, and as a result they had all learned when to leave well enough alone. But did Jack really blame The Big Apple, The City That Never Sleeps, for what had happened to his father? Wasn't this the city where dreams turned into reality?

"But everyone wants to come to New York," he ventured softly, hoping that maybe pointing that out to Jack would help to calm his anger. But Jack merely scowled deeper, and Crutchie resisted the urge to shrink back away from him. Jack could be pretty darn intimidating when he wanted to be, and Crutchie had no desire to feel the older boy's wrath.

"New York's fine," Jack spat out, clearly not meaning the words. "For people who got a big, strong door to lock it out. I'm telling ya, Crutch...there's a whole 'nother way out there. You keep your small life in the big city. Give me a big life in a small town."


	2. The Western Town

**At first, I wasn't sure how I was going to work the song into the story without making it sound awkward, but then I decided just to turn it into a coversation! I added some words and dialogue to give it a more casual, smoother feel than just spoken song lyrics, and I hope I did so effectively. Please enjoy!**

**-Marcelle**

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><p>Jack sighed again at the mention of a tiny city, and Crutchie began to hear a trace of longing in his voice as he leaned against the railing.<p>

"They say folks is dyin' ta get here,' he pointed out, shaking his head slightly, as though all of those who sought New York City for their home were simply wasting their time. "Me? I'm dyin' ta get away."

"Where wouldja go, Jack?" Crutchie asked, genuine curiosity weaving it's way into his voice He himself had never pictured living anywhere that wasn't a bustling city, being dwarfed by towering buildings and crowded by masses of people. Clearly Jack had a better imagination than Crutchie did, or at least, more knowledge for his years.

"Ah Crutch, to a little town out west that's...that's spankin' new," The Manhattan newsie leader spoke with utter reverence, as though nothing in the world sounded better. "An' while I ain't neva been there, I can see it, clear as day." His eyes grew wider, as though he was picturing the town in his head at that very moment. He nudged the younger boy playfully after a minute, and Crutchie found himself grinning at Jack's enthusiasm. "Ya know, if ya want, I betcha you could see it, too."

"Ya think?" Crutchie played into his older friend's fantasy, not seeing any real harm it could do. If Jack wanted to dream about the Old West, so be it. At least it made him happy, something that only a select few things could accomplish. And if Jack wanted to share that dream with him, then Crutchie was more than happy to oblige.

"Sure! Just close your eyes," Jack instructed, throwing an arm around the younger boy's shoulder. "Come with me, where it's clean, and green and pretty!" He gestured out to the New York sky-or rather, beyond it- as Crutchie followed his gaze briefly before shutting his eyes, ready to picture this distant land. "And they went and made a city out of clay."

Crutchie smiled as buildings began to dot the landscape in his mind-small but sturdy buildings that looked brand-new, just as Jack had described.

His brother was laughing, truly laughing, a joyous sound that Crutchie realized he didn't hear nearly as often as he should have. Jack put on such a suave, sophisticated facade that it almost seemed as though he never took real pleasure in anything. Everything was temporary with him, only a few things were meant to last. But it seemed as though this was a dream that Jack had carried with him for a long time.

"Why, the minute thatcha get there, folks'll walk right up and say-" he sighed, as though hearing the words spoken in his mind as well. "Welcome home, son. Welcome home ta Santa Fe."

So Jack's dreamland actually had a name. Somehow, that seemed to make it more real for Crutchie as well. A nameless town somewhere out west was fine enough, but that gave it more of a surreal tint, making it out to be a place they could never reach. But Santa Fe...that was a goal. A dot on a map. Somewhere he and Jack could go that would open their lives to possibilities never dreamed of in New York. Suddenly, Crutchie started to feel the same excitement that radiated off of Jack, started to see why he was so invested in such a faraway place. He began to understand.

"What does a person do in Santa Fe?" Crutchie questioned next as he finally opened his eyes, his interested peaked. He found himself wanting to know everything about the city made out of clay, even if he could never go there.

"Nothin' you could do in New York, that's for sure," Jack scoffed, but his enthusiasm quickly took over again as he grinned broadly at his younger friend. "You'd be plantin' crops, splittin' rails, swappin' tales around the fire...Well, 'cept for Sunday, when ya lie around all day!"

"Mm, sounds nice," Crutchie sighed at the prospect of a day of relaxation, relishing in the thought of no headlines, no shouting, no pity. Just the sun shining down straight from the sky instead of hidden and filtered through a screen of fog. The image filled his mind, a sight he'd never realized he wanted to see before but now longed for.

"But that ain't all, kid, no sir!" Jack reassured him, the pride in his dream only seeming to grow as he took in Crutchie's own fascination. "Soon, your friends are more like family, and they'se beggin' you to stay!"

Something about that seemed to resonate in Crutchie's mind, it sounded all too familiar. Wasn't that exactly how the newsies treated each other-like a family? There was no doubt about it, that's what they were. Crutchie already had friends like that, and so did Jack.

But the Manhattan newsie leader was on a roll, and the crippled boy knew better than to stop him when he was on one of his rants. Besides, it was still fun to hear about Santa Fe, still fun to dream about such a place. No wonder Jack saw an appeal.

"Ain't that neat? Living sweet...in Santa Fe," Jack had leaned against the railing again and had his eyes trained on the skyline as Crutchie watched him fondly, thanking his lucky stars that the streets Jack hated so much hadn't hardened him as much as he would have people believe.

But still, there was one question that pricked in the back of Crutchie's mind, ever since Jack had mentioned his father. Where had he even heard of Santa Fe?

"Got folks there?" he asked, almost timidly, not wanting to offend Jack in any way but still curious enough to want to know. But the older boy merely grinned wanly, as though he was more sadden by the question than insulted.

"Got no folks nowhere," he reported, the matter-of-fact tone he used more than obviously an attempt to hide his true thoughts on the subject. But that was just what Jack did-he hid behind a series of mask that displayed the boy he wanted everyone else to see. It was really only Crutchie that was allowed to see him in his true nature, and the disabled boy was grateful for that.

It couldn't be healthy for Jack to live as he did, constantly holding himself to his own standards of what or who a person should be. But his friend didn't seem to want to dwell on it long, and merely changed the topic instead. "You?"

"I don't need folks. I got friends!" Crutchie answered with a laugh almost immediately, knowing nothing else he could have said would have been the truth. The very concept of parents was unfamiliar to him, because he had never known what it was like. His mother had been taken from him very early, too early for him to remember her clearly, and he couldn't even picture any type of father figure ever existing in his life. The only family he'd ever known was Jack and the boys, and frankly, that was all he needed.

"Hey, how's about you come with me?" Jack suddenly proposed, turning to look at Crutchie as though the idea was more brilliant than anyone else could think of. "Huh? No one worries about no gimp leg in Santa Fe! Yeah, you just hop a palomino, you're ridin' in style!"

He galloped atop the penthouse as though racing through a field in the country, and Crutchie gave a chuckle at the overly-dramatic sight. It was just like Jack to try to make him feel better about his limp, to try to lift his spirits with humor. That was one of the things showed how real of a person Jack could be, that he was more than the charming newspaper boy everyone one the streets took him for.

"Oh yeah, feature me, 'ridin' in style'," Crutchie played along, rolling his eyes at the elder boy's attempt at reason. But he was persistent, and looked at Crutchie again with a confident smile on his face.

"Hey, I bet a few months of clean air, you could toss that crutch for good!"

The grin was contagious, and Crutchie could feel it spreading across his features as well. Jack Kelly sure had a way of getting people to follow him, and maybe it was to Santa Fe that he wanted to lead. All Crutchie knew was that if Jack went, he wanted to go too. Because boy, did Santa Fe sound good.


	3. A Life Worth the Living

**Wow, it's been a while since I updated this! I actually had a hard time with this last part, as I hit a bit of a writer's road block. But I think this turned out pretty well in the end. I hope you enjoy it!**

**-Marcelle **

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><p>"Santa Fe..." Crutchie tried the name out for himself, testing it on his tongue, seeing if it was something he could get used to. Sure enough, the words felt right, as though he had been waiting to say them all of his life but had never realized it until now.<p>

"You can bet on it, pal," Jack encouraged him, his passion seeming to practically lift him off the ground. He was truly alive, balancing on the balls of his feet as if he were going to shoot off into the sky and out of sight at any given moment.

Crutchie wished Jack could be like that all the time-unrestrained, free of his inhibitions and true to his own nature. But he knew some things just weren't likely, and a free Jack Kelly seemed to be one of those things. But in that moment, he was alight with the flame of a dream, and Crutchie supposed that was all he could ask for. "We won't let them old men beat us!"

"We won't beg no one ta treat us fair and square!" Crutchie joined in, feeling himself almost completely won over by the mere idea of Santa Fe. Jack made it sound as though it was the complete opposite of New York City, a place where everything that was wrong with their lives would disappear, replaced instead with the great outdoors and choices they had never dreamed of.

No one in Santa Fe would try to pull the wool over their eyes. That's what Jack was promising, and Crutchie believed him.

"There's a life that's worth the livin' over there, Crutch, I can just see it!" the elder newsie claimed excitedly, his movements wild and exaggerated. He couldn't seem to keep still as he elaborated on this dream of his, as he wove his future in front of him as though it were actually something he could achieve. "And me, I'm gonna do my share! Ya know, work the land, chase the sun-"

"Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fun!" Crutchie suggested, he and Jack laughing at the prospect. Sure, it was crazy, but it somehow seemed a little less ridiculous in that moment. As they stood on the roof of the lodging house, anything was possible for them.

They could go to Santa Fe, they could leave the hard live of the newsies behind them, they could do whatever they set their minds to. Heck, Crutchie wouldn't have to let his failure of a leg stop him anymore, not in Santa Fe. He wouldn't have to be the one everyone pitied, the one they all knew was worth less than the others even if they never said so. That could all be a thing of the past, if he followed Jack in his dream of a better life. He just knew it.

"Yeah, yeah, and watch me stand!" Suddenly Crutchie was voicing his thoughts out loud, in a mad rush of enthusiasm, and they immediately sounded crazy. The hope he had foolishly let himself build up collapsed at once, crushed by the weight of reality and dropping like the smile from his face. He wasn't going anywhere.

He couldn't, and he knew once the words were out in the open that it would never be possible for him to be anything more than the cripple. Wounds didn't magically heal overnight, and they didn't just disappear if you went somewhere else. His gimp leg was horrifyingly permanent, and he had to accept that.

Crutchie had let Jack talk him into believing in dreams that were never meant to come true-at least, not for him. Jack could get out someday, he had the kind of determination and self-driving confidence to make it happen. But Crutchie knew now in his heart of hearts that he wasn't meant for anywhere else but New York. And if he was completely honest, it wasn't really location that bothered him.

It was a fine enough city, and he loved the people in it. The real problem was that he had let himself think that Santa Fe would change his life, but he realized that it wasn't true. No matter where on the earth he traveled, Crutchie would still be the same orphan with a gimp that he had always been.

"Watch me run." He choked on the words, his voice wavering slightly as he pushed back tears. He had to keep up appearances for Jack. His older friend was finally happy as he told Crutchie about Santa Fe, and he couldn't ruin that now with his own stupid problems. He couldn't be the one to spoil Jack's rare moment of joy.

But the Manhattan newsie leader saw right through him, of course, and seem to almost deflate as Crutchie moved towards the railing at the other side of the rooftop. The younger boy winced internally at the harm he had caused and turned away from Jack. How could he have been so stupid?

"Hey..." Jack's tone was sympathetic, comforting, as though the very idea of an upset Crutchie pained him. He made his way across his penthouse and slung an arm around Crutchie's shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. "Hey! C'mon, kid. Don'tcha know that we'se a family?"

"Yeah, I know…" Crutchie admitted softly, feeling a kind of shame fill him at the words. He had gone and ruined everything. He had brought Jack down just as he brought down everyone else. He knew the newsies could be so much more successful without him, but yet they still insisted that they needed him.

Still they watched out for him, helped him on the rare occasion that he needed it, proved to him that this was what a family does. He was a limping liability, but they accepted him anyway. Crutchie owed them everything, and he knew this all too well.

"Right! So do ya really think I would letcha down?" Jack pressed, and Crutchie could practically hear the smile that shone through his words. Jack was trying to reassure him, to encourage him, an act that was a true testament to his character. Jack Kelly was willing to drop everything, even his own dreams, at the merest sign of one of his boy's unhappiness. He was selfless to the core, and sometimes Crutchie worried that this would eventually be his own ruining.

What if Jack never let himself find a life of his own? What if his loyalty to the newsies kept him in the lodging house, never let him explore the world he so desperately wanted to see? Would Jack really settle for this, this mundane life that was so much less than he really deserved?

Even now, Jack was putting aside his excitement for Santa Fe and instead focusing on Crutchie, a transition that seemed much too easy for the crippled boy's liking. But still, their leader was looking for an answer to his question.

"No, ya wouldn't…" Crutchie murmured, knowing that he spoke the truth. Jack would sooner face both of the Delancies head on with his hands tied then even consider the thought of failing the newsies, and Crutchie knew this to be true more than anything.

"No way!" Jack affirmed, seeming to work every ounce of truth that he had into the two words, as if convincing Crutchie of his faithfulness was the most important thing he could ever do. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Me neither. I...I'm sorry, Jack," Crutchie rushed an apology, his head hanging as the shame grew stronger. "I neva shoulda said anythin' about my leg. It's just...it's hard ta keep…" He let himself trail off, somehow knowing that Jack would understand what he meant.

Jack employed The Moneymaker Excuse just as often as the rest of the boys did, but he knew as well as anyone that sometimes it was hard to keep a brave face. Sometimes it was too difficult to always put on a smile, or to charm your way through life. Appearances were one thing, but reality could sometimes be quite different. Crutchie knew that Jack would identify with this more than anyone.

"I know, Crutch. I know it is," his brother sighed, his voice soft as he gazed at the skyline over Crutchie's shoulder. "But ya gotta hold on. Just hold on, kid. And when that train makes Santa Fe, you and me, we're gonna be on it."

"Ya really think so, Jack?" Crutchie found himself latching on to that promise, believing in it with everything he had. Somehow, he knew it wasn't about just Santa Fe anymore. Jack was telling him to hold out for a new life, for a better life that he could somehow see on the horizon and wanted Crutchie to see as well. And if he looked closely, Crutchie could begin to make out a faint vision of the future that laid before them.

It was bright, and promising, and everything that they wanted it to be. Santa Fe wasn't a town, not to Crutchie. It was a way of life, an ideal that both he and Jack were holding onto with each breath they took.

"Yeah, Crutchie," Jack replied with a firm nod. "I know so. Santa Fe's out there, and it's waitin' for us."

The morning bell began to ring out across the city, and Crutchie smiled to himself as Jack called out to the other newsies in an attempt to get the day moving. The city out of clay would always be there, just as it had been for Jack, but Crutchie knew that it was only a dream to him. New York was where he belonged. And for now, there were papes to sell.

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><p><strong>I know that they don't say "We won't let them old men beat us", they say something else, but I'm not really a fan of that word so I censored it...sorry, just a personal choice. I <strong>**hope the rest of this wasn't too terrible...please review and feel free to leave prompts or suggestions!**


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